like a sunflower
by alice hattercandy
Summary: AU. "Hello, Kurosaki-kun. You don't remember me and that's fine. I'm a very forgettable person, anyway. I know you will hate me for this but I'm your fiancée."
1. spring

There is something sad, something beautiful, something heartbreaking when autumn comes.

Spring is hopeful.

Winter is a shimmering paleness.

Summer is warm.

Autumn is stuck between warm yellows and blinding whites, where everything falls.

_Everything – anything._

They fall.

They fall _hard._

And goodbyes are the hardest when the sunshine turns red and leaves turn gold.

:

He stands alone in the backdrop of red and gold sunshine, facing a pair of swings that noiselessly swing back and forth, a silent, lonely dance.

He is tall for his age, with a mop of messy, thick orange hair atop his head. He looks strong, his back looks strong. His feet look strong, too.

The playground is empty. The swings are empty.

But he doesn't feel alone. Autumn sunshine is a quiet company, and it makes his hair brighter. Russet leaves scuttle across the ground, flying freely, gracefully. Their stalks scrape the ground, and leaves smack each other, flying together before scattering.

He approaches one of the swings, sits down, and pushes himself back and forth. He repeats this action several times, his feet not leaving the ground.

Abruptly he stops.

After all, two swings are meant for two people.

:

She stands alone in the backdrop of red and gold sunshine, facing an old seesaw.

She is small, and looks smaller in a saggy jacket with hood and loose knee-shorts. Her back seems too small, too fragile. Her feet are small, but her yellow sneakers are large.

The playground is empty. The seesaw is empty.

But she doesn't feel alone. The red sunshine is there, making a halo around her bright hair. There are red and gold maple leaves that twirl, scuffle and dance.

Her small feet take tentative steps towards the seesaw. She straddles a seat, tries to move it up and down. She does this numerous times. But the seat barely moves.

Soon she gives up.

After all, a seesaw needs two people.

:

He stops, turns his head around and his brown eyes widen, staring in wide-eyed horror and surprise at the late night visitor who opens the clinic door. There is a large man, slouching awkwardly. Several blinks later, he realizes there is a figure below the man, shadowed by his height.

A little girl.

A little girl is carrying a large man on her back.

A man who bleeds, a man who is dying.

:

With difficulty, she lifts her chin.

She isn't crying.

But when she speaks, her voice is small and broken, thin like glass, floating like clouds. Her voice is strange. It is calm – a strange calmness, like falling water, except that the water never touches the ground, but is still falling and flowing and _no, no, _not touching, _not touching_ the ground.

"_Please… Please, help him."_

A voice that tries to reach out to you but – _never reaching_, _not echoing _because there is no sound, but she keeps speaking, she keeps trying.

:

The after-silence is beautiful.

And so sad, so fragile.

But, suddenly, _you_ are—

:

"DAD! Get over here! _Dad!_"

:

"I'm sorry."

It is a soft, but strong voice.

Her body shakes at the softness and warmth. She shakes more as the apology passes and new words flow.

:

"Oka-san!" He runs after her. "Where are you going?"

His mother, wearing black, smiles brightly. "I'm going to see someone pretty."

Brown eyes blink.

She bends down to his level. "Do you want to see her?"

:

She stands in front of a gravestone.

She stands alone, fragile, so small.

_Onii-chan._

It is not raining. But it _is. _Inside her heart, it rains heavily. Her grip on the picture frame tightens.

_I'm alone now._

She starts to cry. Tears silently make tracks on her pale cheeks. And they didn't stop. They flood from her eyes, and they cannot stop.

_I can't get sick anymore._

Small shoulders curve as she shakes. Tears fall on the portrait.

_Onii-chan… What will I do now?_ She is scared, alone and lonely. It's hard, _so _hard to pretend that it is okay, that she is strong. _Onii-chan… I'm scared… I'm so scared… Please… Tell me what to do. _She cries harder, hugging her brother's portrait closer to her small body.

_I'm scared…_

A hand touches her small shoulder. Her body jerks in surprise. Slowly she turns her face around, cheeks wet with tears.

:

He sees wide, _wide_ honey-colored eyes.

:

"Hi."

The voice is familiar.

She tears her watery gaze away from chocolate eyes, and looks up to the speaker. A beautiful woman with long curly red hair and kind eyes smiles at her.

"I'm Kurosaki Masaki."

:

She smiles, despite her pain, tears, loneliness and fear.

:

Her smile is as bright as sunshine, as sad as autumn, blinding like snow, and beautiful like spring.

He is charmed.

:

She lives alone, and it is okay. She doesn't have any friends, and it is okay. Masaki-san visits her everyday. She cooks and she smiles at her, and she doesn't feel alone anymore. She strives to be happy.

"He's watching you."

Thus, she has to be happy.

"So, keep smiling."

:

Two redheads sit on the swings, a woman and tiny little girl with shoulder-length red-orange hair.

It is autumn and the sunshine is red and soft. Maple leaves cover the ground. Few leaves float in the breeze, falling softly and mingling with others. Eyes, filled with soft wisdom and maternal affection, follow the little girl, getting off her swing seat to play with the maple leaves. She scoops up a small mound of leaves, throws the leaves in the air and laughs as she twirls.

The little girl turns to face the woman on the swing.

Smiling warmly, the woman reaches out for the girl with both hands, beckoning the girl to come closer.

The girl scrambles back to her feet clumsily and runs to her, wrapping small, thin arms around her middle. "Would you please do something for me, Orihime-chan?"

The little redhead looks up to her, nodding as she says, "Un!"

She places a hand on the girl's soft cheek. "Thank you, Orihime-chan."

The girl laughs and hugs her tighter. "I love you very, very much! I will do anything for you, Masaki-san!"

She kisses the girl's forehead. "I love Orihime-chan, too." With her hands, she cups the girl's face. "Someday," she says in a soft and clear voice. "When you're older…"

:

Someone calls her name in panic and horror, again and again.

She looks back, blinks, sees something shiny and big, and suddenly, there _she _is, her arms around her, and they are moving, tumbling and _it hurts._ Screams fill the air, and there is something wet, something thick, and frighteningly warm that touches her face and clothes.

The warmth spreads.

Screams grow louder. Footsteps thunder the ground where they lay.

Curly, red hair tickles her face.

And she murmurs:

"…M-M-Masaki-san?"

Sirens reply.

:

Another gravestone.

Unlike before, it is raining and she is soaked. She is a stranger, an outsider, but she keeps crying. Mourners start to depart, leaving five people behind. Kurosaki Isshin gathers his daughters in his arms and tells the boy to quickly get out of the rain. It is unhealthy.

:

She opens her mouth, and it is difficult to speak.

"I…I-I-I…"

He stiffens.

"I… I'm… s-s-sorry. I am so so—"

She watches him turn his head to face her.

:

"I hate you."

:

The rain falls harder, outside and inside her heart.

This time, she is alone, standing in front of a gravestone. Alone, small, an outsider. She keeps crying, though, and she drowns in her pool of tears and pieces of broken heart.

:

* * *

**like  
a  
sunflower.**

* * *

**O**RIHIME'S CALENDAR!

**JULY**

buy extra large red bean paste tube  
buy large jar of wasabi  
watch my favorite drama  
read _Romeo and Juliet _  
wake up EARLY, SUPER EARLY  
TOKYO  
buy two loaves of bread  
pay RENT! or else you'll get kicked out!  
visit Masaki-san  
decide.

p.s.

buy the new _Business Magazine Today_!

HAVE A GOOD, ENERGETIC, HAPPY DAY, ORIHIME! (yip, yip, _hooray!)_

:

She stared long and hard at the calendar, particularly at the encircled number. She swallowed, wet her lips and closed her eyes.

"_I love Orihime-chan, too."_

She clenched her fists and stiffened her resolve.

_Hai. I love Masaki-san, too._

:

"IIIIIIIIIIII~"

An eye twitched.

"~CHIIIIIII—"

A vein throbbed.

"—_GOOOOO_!"

Without even bothering to look up, he swung his fist in the air. Fist met face. Face met wall.

_Thud!_

"Pathetic," he grumbled, rubbing his messy, orange hair. "Can't you act normal for once!? This is getting old!" he snapped, his face contorting in an expression of disgust as his father's eyes sparkled with fake tears.

Kurosaki Isshin sprung back to his feet. "You _are _getting old!" he cried out.

Kurosaki Ichigo's scowl deepened. "I'm only twenty-four, you idiot."

The older Kurosaki whipped a hand, shaking his head as he said, "Twenty-four and still a virgin— _oomph_!"

"Just go _kiss _the wall, idiot."

:

"Good morning, Masaki-san~" she said happily, squatting in front of the tombstone. She placed the bouquet of sunflowers in front of the stone and grinned widely.

"Pretty, aren't they? The flower shop owner gave me a dozen for _free!_ She's such a nice woman and I don't know if I should leave her all alone. I like working for her! She always gives me free dozens of sunflowers, yellow lilies and cosmos. I'm going to miss her so much!"

She became quiet, her eyes downcast. "I… I…" She cleared her throat, and smiled thoughtfully. "I just… just want to say good bye. It would be a very, very long time before I can visit you again! Tokyo is very, very far from Karakura! Truthfully, I'm… I'm a little scared. What if… what if I get lost?!" She shook her head vigorously. "My sense of direction is excellent! I can find my way around the city, I know I can!"

A significant pause. Then.

"It's… it's today, right?"

She bit her lip.

"His… his birthday." She dropped her gaze, blushing. "He turned twenty four today. I'm sure you're happy over there. Please, don't worry. I… I will not break my promise! But…" Her eyes suddenly filled with emotions.

"Please, please…"

Her grip on her knees tightened.

"…give me strength. Please, protect my heart."

:

The elevator doors opened, revealing an orange-haired man, clad in black suit and tie. One of his hands was stuck inside his pocket.

"Good morning, Kurosaki-shachou."

Ichigo lifted his face to nod in reply. He stepped out of the lift, making his way towards his office. His pace was quick; the swing of legs was powerful. His secretary followed easily behind him, being tall and agile herself.

He stopped before a wooden door and ran a hand over his thick, messy hair. His bangs stubbornly fell forward again. He ignored them, opened the door and stepped in. For a moment, his secretary paused to squint. He, however, continued, ignoring the blinding sunlight filtering through the ceiling-to-floor glass wall. His hair shone fierily under the glare of sunlight, as though on fire. Tokyo Tower glistened from the distance.

Ichigo stood next to his desk, staring out to skyline.

"Everything is here, Kurosaki-shachou. All these documents are verified and complete. All they needed is your signature."

He nodded and said nothing, his scowl deepening as he glanced at the said documents, showing displeasure.

"By the way, happy birthday, Kurosaki-shachou."

Ichigo sat down after unbuttoning his coat. "Yeah, thanks." After that, he bent down, pulled a folder and opened it, his eyes downcast, scrutinizing.

Neliel Tu bowed and left the room.

:

Five hours later, Urahara Kisuke entered his office unannounced.

"What the hell," was Ichigo's greeting. He paused from working and lifted his face, eyes narrowed. He had already loosened his tie hours ago and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his collar. And yet, he still felt suffocated. Despite the open space of his ridiculously spacious office, he felt imprisoned.

The older man, who wore a green and white stripped bucket hat, giggled. "Hallo, birthday boy~" His joyous greeting was met by a sulkier scowl. Urahara only shook his head, saying, "How rude."

Ichigo snorted, dropping his pen as he leaned back in his chair. Few orange locks fell over his narrowed eyes. "What do you want?"

Urahara approached closer until he was standing in front of his desk. What a dull room, he thought, a contrast to its fierce owner. He let his eyes roam the gray walls, large oak desk, and thick tomes on the shelves. There were no framed photographs; only a single, delicate glass frame with a picture of a smiling, orange-haired woman stood on his desk. As the heir to his father's company and its current president, Ichigo could definitely afford to splurge, like buy a sophisticated-looking chair for his guests or have his threadbare walls painted. Whenever he got asked why he kept his office this way, he would shrug and say how irrelevant it was to worry about the state of his office.

The only thing Urahara found interesting in this room was the view of Tokyo Tower and Mount Fuji.

"It's your birthday."

Ichigo's face remained nonchalant. "So?"

Urahara placed a brown folder on top of his desk. Ichigo frowned at it suspiciously. "What's that?"

The smile on Urahara's face widened, and Ichigo grew more suspicious.

"It's your mother's will."

:

Five hours earlier, Inoue Orihime arrived in Tokyo.

"Ohh, wow~ Tokyo's bigger when it's not in TV!" she exclaimed, and looked up and around. People in different attires – business suits, school uniforms, and trendy clothes – passed and ignored her, looking so plain in knee-length dress with yellow flower patterns decorating the edge of its skirt. The sleeves of her oversized cardigan were too long that she had to roll them up to her forearms to use her hands.

_I must call Tatsuki-chan and tell her how big Tokyo is!_ Orihime laughed to herself, remembering her overprotective best friend. Tatsuki had made her promise to update her regularly about her condition. Orihime got off a crowded pedestrian lane and reached a lesser crowded sidewalk. There she passed by a sidewalk billboard. Abruptly she stopped, eyes widening as she recognized the face, the eyes, the scowl.

Her heartbeat raced, pulse quickening.

Something tender blossomed inside her, and soon it became too painful to bear that she can feel it in her bones, in her ribs. But she dismissed it. Bury. Repress. _Anything._

Despite the conflicting emotions, a strong sense of sadness mingling with joy, a genuine smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"…Kurosaki-kun."

:

Urahara waited, anticipating a major temper eruption.

Ichigo did not disappoint him.

"What the fuck are you talking about?!"

:

Orihime stepped closer. The poster was as tall as her. It only showed the upper half of his body. His reddish-orange hair looked as messy as ever. It looked it needed a trim. His narrowed eyes gazed down at her imperiously, and his expression was of a disgruntled, very handsome man who looked annoyed at being photographed. He wore a simple but impeccable black suit which helped accentuate the strength of his posture and the color of his hair.

Orihime wanted to reach out, touch the glass and trace his features, but she only smiled at the scowling face.

_Wow, you really are famous, Kurosaki-kun! You've… _Her eyes softened as she thought, _gotten so far for me to reach._

Her smile widened.

_That's fine. After all, I'm just a flower girl._

:

Ichigo was livid.

"What the fuck are you talking about? Does my father know?!"

Urahara chuckled. "Of course! Your father approves as a matter of fact, Kurosaki-san."

Ichigo grew angrier. "I am _not _going to marry some random woman—"

"She's not some random woman, Kurosaki-san," Urahara interrupted quietly.

"I don't care," Ichigo hissed between clenched teeth. "Is there any way to revoke this will?"

A small, knowing smile appeared on Urahara's shadowed face. "Are you willing to disrespect your mother's last request?"

Ichigo's jaw tightened.

"Besides, you know the consequences. You read them. Disobey the will and you lose _all _the Kurosaki properties your parents had worked so hard for to attain. You would not like that, would you?"

"Damn you."

Urahara did not wince at such blatant display of hostility. "Not only that, all of your properties will be given to this _woman._"

"Fuck!" Ichigo stood, knocking back his chair as he turned to face the glass wall. Roughly, he raked a large hand over his hair, scraping his scalp in frustration and anger.

_Okaa-san. _He clenched his fists.

_Why?_

"What now, Kurosaki-san?"

Ichigo turned to face the man and glared. "Do I have a fucking choice?"

Urahara smiled. "Yes, you have. Say no, and Kurosaki Group of Companies will be given to this lovely young woman. Say yes, and you'll keep your money and gain yourself a pretty wife."

The cold glare became colder. "Shut the fuck up already. When will I meet this… _person_?"

"Today."

:

_Ahhh… What a tall building! It's… it's as tall as the sky! A-Amazing!_ Shamelessly, Orihime gawked at the building. _How can it stand on its own when it's only made of glass?!_

As Orihime walked inside, running into people – _sorry! Sorry! – _and getting lost in the process, she could not help but admire the design and simple elegance of the building. An hour passed and she kept strolling around, attracting suspicious looks from office workers. Finally realizing she was lost and feeling tired, she walked up to a security guard, looking up to the tall man with large, weary eyes.

"Um, excuse me, sir?" said Orihime shyly.

The guard nodded. "May I help you?"

"Thank you, sir. May I ask where I can—"

A familiar voice rang out. "Orihime-chan?"

Orihime whipped her head around, her long hair leaping out in shiny streams about her. Her face lit up when she recognized the dark-haired man's familiar face. "Ah! Ku-Kurosaki-san!" The man let out a laugh and boundedtowards her, throwing his hands in the air.

"Hai, hai! O-ri-hi-me-chaaaan~ Oh my! You've developed so nicely!"

The young woman flushed, scratching the back of her head. "Ehh…"

_But you haven't grown… like uh, in height, Orihime-chan?_

_Eh? R-R-Really?! I think I need to eat more wasabi, sweet potatoes and red bean jell-o sandwiches!_

_Uh-huh! But you're still beautiful as ever!_

_Ah? Ha! A-Arigato! You're beautiful too!_

…

…

…

_Wah! I meant, handsome! Very handsome!_

:

"So, you finally made your way back to us."

"…"

"He's waiting."

:

When the door opened, he was prepared to throw something. A murderous glare or maybe his laptop. Anything.

But when he saw _that _face, he stilled.

His world came crashing down on him.

:

"Hello, Kurosaki-kun. You don't remember me and that's fine. I'm a very forgettable person, anyway. I know you will hate me for this but I'm your fiancée."


	2. vow

"Someday," she says, "when you're older. Please marry my son."

"… Marry? What is that?"

"It is when two people promise to grow old with each other, take care of each other and most importantly, love each other very much. It's a very special promise."

Eager honey eyes round in fascination. "What's a promise?"

"It is a declaration that one will do something very special for the other no matter what happens."

"Oh!"

"When you grow up, I wish for you to take care of him and most especially love him ardently."

The little girl opens her mouth, trying to pronounce the strange word. "A-Ar…den…" She pouts, scrunching her nose.

"But, um, why me?" she mumbled. She fidgets with the hem of her shirt shyly. "I-I'm not special."

The woman smiles and Orihime thinks, oh, how she wants to remember that smile, put it in a box and hide it with care. She will do anything to make Masaki-san smile like that. Masaki-san loves her dearly and because of her, the pain of losing her beloved brother has become bearable.

_Where did Onii-chan go? What happened to him?_

_He became the sky._

_The sky?_

_When the people we love die, they become the sky to watch over us._

_Then Onii-chan, he's watching me?_

_Yes, he is. So keep smiling. _

And she does. She starts to smile again.

"You are very special. Orihime-chan's heart is precious and I want that heart to love my son." Warm hands cradle her small face gently. "Your heart is beautiful and kind, forgiving and selfless. It is strong and does not break under the strain. It could be crushed but it won't break because your heart is pure like water. It will simply flow back together. As a mother, I want my son to have that kind of heart to love him."

Masaki tweaks her nose playfully.

"It's still very early for Orihime-chan to understand. But one day, you will, and I hope when that day comes, you will remember me and what I asked of you."

The little girl curls her hands into small fists in front of her determined face. "I won't forget!"

"Of course, Orihime-chan is a bright girl! How about we make a promise to each other?"

She bobs her head up and down eagerly. "Un! Let's make a promise!"

"You're such a good girl, Orihime-chan," Masaki says affectionately, hugging the small girl. "I'm so proud of you. Your brother raised you so well." She holds Orihime's small hand in hers. "Do you promise to look after my son for as long as you are able?"

The girl bites her lip, because she does not understand, but Masaki-san is smiling. It means this, whatever it is, is a good thing.

"…for me, Orihime-chan?"

_That_ is the magic word. _For me_, for her, for Masaki-san.

The girl nods determinedly. "I promise!" She thrust her fist upwards. "Space cowboy's honor!"

She smiles, beautifully so and Orihime feels happy, happy because she made this woman smile like that and so, she promises.

She remembers.

She tells herself:

_I will never break my promise._

:

**like  
a  
sunflower.**

:

"You."

"I'm sorry." Orihime scratched the back of her head, a wide, sheepish smile on her face. "I don't look, um, stylish." She fidgeted under his stare, suddenly self-conscious as she dug the soles of her old red chucks onto the black tiled floor.

A frown wrinkled Ichigo's forehead. "What are you – what are you doing here?" His frown deepened. "I mean, you're–"

Ichigo struggled to continue but his heart was racing, racing, _racing_.

"…_I know you will hate me for this but I'm your fiancée."_

There was a brief look of astonishment.

_No wa—_

"I think I should properly introduce myself."

Something was beating violently.

Was it his heart?

Was it her heart?

"I'm…"

The beat grew louder.

"… Inoue Orihime."

_Inoue Orihime. _

Flashbacks, like film negatives, flickered before Ichigo's eyes.

The most vivid of these flashbacks were the memories of a girl always looking outside the window, of a girl reading a thick book, shiny auburn hair covering the side of her face. A girl folding a purple origami, a girl who, at the sight at him became flustered, stammered and fled as though pursued. Pretty smiles, innocent eyes and genuine laugh. Of firsts and lasts.

But new memories emerged, memories which he thought he had forgotten. He had buried these memories at the bottom of his heart and he had no idea what made him remember. These were the memories in the rain, of a girl sobbing in front of a tombstone, of a dying and dead woman near a river and a white blanket over that woman's body.

It was raining.

"_I… I'm… s-s-sorry. I am so so–"_

Ichigo felt his blood freeze in his veins.

"_I hate you."_

:

_This is for Masaki-san, _Orihime told herself repeatedly. She will not break her promise to the woman who had saved and loved her wholeheartedly.

Even if she had to endure heartbreak after heartbreak.

With a smile, gentle and bright eyed, Orihime continued, "Again, I'm sorry it has to be me, but… I'll do my best to support you. And I promise, I won't mind if you… I will not stop you from seeing other women. I understand our situation."

Ichigo looked like he was studying her face, as though searching for something. Then in the next second, that nanosecond, his face cleared, and then it darkened.

"You." His voice was low and cold.

Orihime turned rigid.

"It was _you_."

Dread filled her tender heart, but again, she reminded herself: _this is for Masaki-san, this is my promise, this is my promise and– _

Kurosaki Ichigo stood. Orihime swallowed, unconsciously taking a step back. It felt like the air had become too thin to breathe, and at the same time, charged with energy, electrified, as though lightening were about to strike. His jaw was clenched, his eyebrows furrowed above his eyes. They were burning, bright like embers.

In that moment, Orihime knew and understood. Finally – _finally_ – Kurosaki Ichigo remembered _her_. If he didn't remember who she was when they were in high school, most definitely now, he rememberedwho she really was.

"Right?" he said calmly. But his voice was cold, scratchy and unfeeling. It didn't match his smoldering eyes.

"You were _that _girl."

Even though she had emotionally and mentally prepared herself for this confrontation, Orihime still went numb. The memories of blood and the weight of Masaki-san's body on top of her smaller body, the warmth of her blood that stained her flashed before her eyes like filmstrips, reminding her.

She curled her hands into trembling fists, remembering her prayer.

_Give me strength. Please, protect my heart._

Orihime watched him run a hand through his thick orange hair, gritting his teeth so hard that the muscles in his jaw were clenching visibly. "Why the fuck didn't I realize it before?" She heard him mutter. He wasn't shouting but the fury in his voice made up for it.

"I'm… sorry. I…I…" His fierce, blazing eyes snapped up to look at her and the words she was saying and wanted to say rolled back to her throat.

"Your apology will not bring my mother back."

He was not shouting, but she wished he had hit her physically instead of looking at her like _that. _She bit her lip, dropping her gaze.

"Fuck. I can't believe it," he hissed. "It was _you…_"

Orihime hid a cringe at the way he said 'you'.

"And all this fucking time, I–" Ichigo stopped abruptly. Orihime looked up. Their eyes met for a fraction of second, a look of deep pain briefly entering his eyes, before he furiously turned away and raked a large hand over his thick hair again.

"Shit!"

Orihime jumped in shock as he hit his table with his fist. She watched him, wide eyed, apprehensive; Ichigo was hunching over his desk, hair falling over his face. When he looked up, eyes cold and narrowed, Orihime wondered: _Does he really hate me this much?_

But she buried her feelings deep inside her heart and reminded herself that this, everything, was for the sake of her promise to the woman who treated her like a daughter, who loved her just like the way her brother did.

This wasn't about her.

"How the fuck did _this_ happen?"

Orihime tried to smile as she explained. "I made a promise to your mother. I promised her that… I will marry you."

He looked flabbergasted at first before bellowing, "_What!" _

Orihime winced. "You turned twenty four today. She said I have to marry you when you turn twenty four."

He rose to his full height, intimidating her, glaring with such animosity that Orihime feared he would suffer an aneurysm just at the sight of her. "This is bullshit!" She flinched visibly. "Why would she pick _you_?"

This time, Orihime wasn't fast enough to hide the hurt in her eyes. But a smile quickly flitted over her pale face, trying to lighten up the atmosphere.

"D-Don't worry! I have a few talents. I can play the piano – a little! I know basic first aid too. I can bake all sorts of bread, pastries and pies! My specialty is chocolate cake!" She poked her chin, contemplating. "And I haven't killed anyone and I don't have any gangster friends!"

His face was like a stone. It didn't change; his eyes didn't even flicker. Orihime felt immensely discouraged but she shook her head inwardly. _Be strong, Orihime!_

There was a heavy silence afterwards. She watched his face relax a little before transforming into a mask of cold indifference. With fluid grace, he sat down, looked at her from underneath his lowered lashes, his demeanor aloof. She frequently saw this kind of look of his in business magazines whenever he, or his father, was featured.

"How much?" he said.

She blinked. "I'm sorry?"

His expression did not change. "How much do you want me to pay you to back out?" he elaborated.

Orihime breathed deeply before replying. "Kurosaki-kun, I don't wish to burden you, but I can never break a promise to your mother. I owe her so much."

The corner of his mouth curled up in a cold smile. "Yeah. You owe her _your _life."

She refused to be hurt, to be intimidated.

"You're right," Orihime murmured, gaze faltering. It had taken a lot of bravery for her to look up and meet his gaze. Despite his frosty expression, her heart, _oh be still, _skipped several beats. In person, his eyes were more intense. They pulled her in, trapping her in place. He was a good looking man, a very good looking man. A dangerous man, she knew.

Vaguely, Orihime wondered if he can still remember her as his high school classmate. _Impossible. _She was forgettable. But she never forgot him and that one special moment when he approached her and talked to her – for the first and the last time. That memory always made her feel a profound, throbbing sadness. But she treasured the memory of that afternoon, dreamed of it oftentimes with vivid clarity, wondering if it was real or imagined.

There were many things she wished she could be, things she wanted to do and have but there was one thing she wanted and _that_ something was the one thing she would never have.

Orihime gave herself a shake. This was not the right time for such sentimental things. She had something to tell him.

"Kurosaki-kun, I assure you… I won't tarnish your reputation. And like I said before, I won't mind if you keep intimate relation with other women. You're free to do whatever you please. I will try my best not to annoy you. I will stay away from you and will come to you only if you wish it. I won't mind eating dinner alone and it's okay if you don't talk to me, forget my birthday and pretend that I'm not here, that I don't exist."

Serenely, she smiled, looking delicate but peculiarly strong in her modest clothing. A large backpack hung from her shoulders, making her appear small. Despite her frailty, there was something odd about her, a quiet strength behind those large eyes.

"Believe it or not, I loved your mother and–"

"Oh yeah?" Ichigo cut in, looking uninterested as he leaned back in his chair.

She swallowed. She won't give him the satisfaction that his words and his mere presence were affecting her, making her weak.

For a second, Oirhime struggled and when she spoke, her words were clear, her tone soft but firm. "Yes, I do. And like you said, I owe her my life. I will never break a promise to her."

He shrugged, already looking bored. "Two million," he said. "Three million." He raised an eyebrow when she kept quiet.

"You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

She smiled slightly.

Ichigo glared. "Seven million," he snapped, looking away. "That's my last offer."

Orihime turned her back to him. The longer she looked at him, the faster her tired but hopeful heart quiver, crack and shatter into many little pieces. But diligently, she picked up the pieces and pieced them together.

But even if she managed to piece it back together, the cracks remained, won't they?

She had to teach herself to be stronger. She recalled Masaki-san telling her that her heart was strong. Well, she had to make her heart stronger.

_I will be strong. _

The kind of strength that endures all things quietly, patiently – that's the sort of strength she needed.

"I don't want your money."

Behind her, Ichigo arched an eyebrow. "Seven million is _not_ enough for you?"

She cringed at his tone. _But I understand his anger and that's okay, _she told herself patiently. Heaving a deep breath, Orihime hooked her thumbs under the straps of her backpack. "I don't want anything from you."

Ichigo scoffed in disbelief behind her.

She continued as if she didn't hear him, her voice even with no hints of negative emotion. "The only thing I want in this world," she said, voice growing quieter, "… is something you could never give to me."

:

Isshin blew out a puff of smoke. He frequently traveled from Tokyo to Karakura. After all, Karakura will always be his home – Masaki was here.

"Your plan worked." The corner of his mouth lifted. "You really made sure that Orihime-chan will comply with your request by emotionally binding her to that promise." He grinned. "And lookie! I'm going to have grandkids soon!" He gave a bark of laughter.

He crouched down before the bouquet of flowers and touched the delicate petals of a sunflower. "I hope Orihime-chan has enough strength and resolve to endure this. I don't want her to get hurt. Ichigo…" He shook his head. "He's short-tempered, you know. He'd never hurt a woman but words are sharper than knives."

Isshin got to his feet.

"But if what you said is true about her strength, then Orihime-chan can handle him. But look after her, yeah? She needs all the help she can get. Knowing our son, he will make her cry."

:

"You're right."

Orihime bit her lip, her hair falling over her face as she tilted her head slightly to the right.

"I will never give you this company my parents spent their lifetime to build. I could give you some money once in a while, but other than that, this company will never be yours."

Again, she prayed for strength, for Masaki to protect her heart, to steel her resolve. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to remember their moments together. The memory of Masaki's smile after she made that promise was the strongest.

_I will never break my promise._

Orihime turned around, beaming. And for a second there, Ichigo looked stunned, but it was instantly replaced by a cold façade.

"Let's get married, shall we?"

:

"I don't have time to answer the phone. Leave a message if you like."

"Oniichan, why aren't you answering your phone?"

Sigh.

A deep, tired sigh.

"Please call back. I'm worried. Even Karin-chan, but it's a secret."

"Daddy said he's staying in Karakura for two days. Did he tell you? Where are you staying? Hotel suite? Your penthouse?"

"Please call back."

:

Karin lifted the remote and flipped through the channels. "Don't worry too much." Her sister remained staring at the phone after leaving a message on her brother's answering machine.

Karin sighed. "Yuzu."

"I'm worried."

Karin snorted.

"Ichi-nii's old, Yuzu."

"But still-"

"Ichi-nii is allowed to be stupid every now and then, Yuzu. Let him be. Sooner or later, he'll come around," Karin said and settled into watching an amateur cooking show.

:

Ichigo blinked. Across the table, Karin smirked.

"Congratulations. You made it to the front page, Ichi-nii." Karin resumed eating breakfast while Yuzu inquired if it was true.

He glared at his own scowling face. His grip on the newspaper tightened, crinkling the edges.

"Damn it."

When he arrived at the office, a string of reporters and photographers were waiting for him. The noise was unbearable; his migraine worsened and losing his temper, he snarled, "Mind your own fucking business."

There was brief silence. Then the flashes multiplied and the noise returned.

_Shit._

:

* * *

**note**. OMG WHAT

i know it's been a year (or 2 or 3 omggg and i am very sorry) but here it is, as promised to Tomato Pal, Virgil. 8D

ok, some notes just because-  
**1 **according to a supplementary material, Karakura Town is near Central Tokyo but in this fic it is a town, in the countryside, far from the capital  
**2** this will probably run for 7-8 chapters; rating might go up… unless you guys don't like m-rated scenes XD  
**3** updates will be sporadic, sort of D: because i'm updating _godsend_ too… i think? :D  
**4** thank you for your patience! 8D reviews, comments, violent reactions? 8D in any case, i hope you enjoyed this installment!


	3. cirrus

Thursday came, four days after Kurosaki Ichigo and Inoue Orihime met.

"I went home as soon as I heard the news," Tatsuki said, eyeing her seated friend with concern. "I first saw it on a newspaper. Ichigo, engaged? I thought, 'no way'. But I kept seeing it on tabloids so I called Ishida. He said it wasn't his business. I called Ichigo. He didn't want to talk about it. My last resort was his father and of course, he spilled the beans. But I thought I was hearing things."

Tatsuki put her fists on her hips.

"Orihime, what is this all about? I know you have a crush on Ichigo—" Orihime stiffened, blushing. She looked down, a sheet of hair falling forward, covering her pink cheeks. "But back in high school, you kept your distance. Even though we had the same circle of friends, you distanced yourself from him. And now…"

Tatsuki made a vague hand motion. "You're going to marry him."

Orihime said nothing, fiddling with the hem of her flowery skirt. The stitching unraveled and she now played with the frayed thread.

"You've loved him for so long. But you've never tried to talk to him when we were in high school. You were terrified of him— no, you were _not_ terrified." Tatsuki's eyes softened.

"You're not scared of him. You were terrified of him getting close to _you._"

Finally Orihime lifted her head. She raised a hand and tucked her hair behind her ear shyly. "Tatsuki-chan, I've wanted to tell you for a long time but…" She trailed off, uncertainty clear on her face.

"Orihime, you know that you will always be my friend and I will always support you. But if this," here Tatsuki made another gesture, "marrying Ichigo will cause you great pain, don't do it."

"I have to do it," Orihime insisted, staring at her window dappled with sunshine. It was ajar and breeze blew through the room, curtains fluttering like white flags.

Tatsuki sat on the cushion next to her friend. "I saw Ichigo the other day and when I mentioned your name, he looked mad or something. Did something happen between you and Ichigo?"

"Yes," Orihime answered quietly.

Tatsuki's expression darkened, menace lacing her tone. "What is it? Did he hurt you?"

Orihime looked up to her friend and shook her head. "No, no, Tatsuki-chan, he didn't." The fierce look on Tatsuki's face faded into a look of confusion.

"I…" Orihime dropped her gaze. What would Tatsuki think? She had carried this secret for so long, always afraid to lose friends - the few ones she had acquired over the years, the same people who became Ichigo's closest friends.

A gentle nudge from Tatsuki jolted her out of her reverie. Orihime took a deep breath.

"His mother… died because of me."

Tatsuki's expression was blank then became puzzled, looking as though she were remembering something. "Hang on. Masaki-san died in an accident. She…" Her eyes widened. "You… You're _that _girl?"

"Yes." Orihime lifted her gaze, her eyebrows furrowed. She looked tired all of a sudden, a weariness that did not come from physical exertion. "Do you hate me now, Tatsuki-chan?" she asked in a wobbly but clear voice. Tatsuki's eyebrows slid up.

"What are you talking about? It was an accident and it was Masaki-san's choice to save you! It wasn't your fault."

Orihime shook her head. "If I had just listened, if I had just…" She squeezed her eyes shut, ducking her head. Tatsuki held her hand.

"He blames you for her death, doesn't he? He…" Tatsuki paused, frowning and uncomfortable to utter her next words.

"He hates me." Orihime finished for her friend, opening her eyes. "Yes, he does. He has the right to," she added when Tatsuki tried to refute her claim.

"Oh, Orihime… Why then? Why are you doing this? Tying the knot with the person who hates you? This is ridiculous! And what's more? He's willing to marry you!"

Orihime sighed tiredly and looked around. Her gaze landed on the shrine in the corner. Her brother's portrait stood next to a delicate silver picture frame with a picture of an attractive woman. Behind them was a short vase filled with blue flowers with white centers. Her new apartment had two rooms, a kitchen and small receiving area. It was on the fourth floor, next to a vacant room.

"Orihime," Tatsuki urged. "Tell me. I have a feeling you're hiding something."

"I'm sorry for not telling you."

Tatsuki shook her head, patting Orihime's wrist. "It's all right. It's not something you can freely discuss with someone, even with a friend." Orihime smiled gratefully. "By the way, this might sound odd but didn't Ichigo recognize you as the girl his mother used to take care of when we were in high school? I never saw him look at you with anger. I even saw him stare at you sometimes."

Orihime leaned over the kotatsu and traced a coffee mug ring with her fingertip. "I think, back then, he didn't recognize me or had forgotten me." She smiled wistfully, a sad sort of smile that ironically enhanced her features. "I don't think Kurosaki-kun remembers me as his classmate. He now remembers me as the person who caused his mother's death."

Tatsuki frowned at that and opened her mouth to say something but she just shook her head. It was not her business, her story. Instead, she asked, "So? What's the deal with the marriage thing?"

Orihime explained her situation, including her promise to Masaki. When she was finished telling her the story, Tatsuki was flabbergasted.

"Wow." Orihime giggled at her best friend's astounded reaction. "Okay… So a will names you as the sole heir. But if Ichigo marries you, it will be revoked. And if he doesn't, you will inherit the _whole _Kurosaki family fortune?" Orihime nodded. "All of it?" She nodded again. That was what Urahara-san had told her.

"Damn. No wonder Ichigo's willing to marry you."

Orihime nodded. "He doesn't have any choice, does he?"

"And so are you."

She smiled brightly and raised her fists in front of her. "Don't worry about me, Tatsuki-chan! I'll be alright!"

"It's hard not to. But I know, despite your gentleness, you're strong." Tatsuki sighed deeply. "But you…"

Orihime stood to fix the curtains, tying them with a ribbon. Outside, the sun slowly set, swallowed by the earth and the sea.

"It doesn't matter." Standing by the window, in the orange sunlight, Orihime smiled at Tatsuki. "I know that Kurosaki-kun hates me and I don't expect him to return my feelings. I understand and it's okay. He doesn't and will never love me, but I love him and that's enough. I will take care of him – if he lets me – and make sure I don't get in his way."

_Orihime…_ Tatsuki gave her friend a worried look. _Why do I have this feeling that I'm about to watch some tearjerker live show drama?_

She shook her head. She will be there for Orihime and maybe, if she got lucky, hit Kurosaki Ichigo and get away with it.

:

Friday came and the news of Kurosaki Ichigo's engagement, reached its pinnacle.

Tatsuki warned Orihime about the press who, according to Tatsuki, were merciless dogs, salivating over scandals and news that they will sensationalize in order for their paper to sell. They will hunt her down and tear her to pieces – figuratively.

"Eh? Me?"

"Well, you're marrying _the _Kurosaki Ichigo."

"I know he's famous, but…"

"Just be ready, okay?"

"Un! Don't worry, Tatsuki-chan! I can take care of myself!"

The kettle let out a whistle. Orihime went to the kitchen. The screech softened as she turned off the stove.

"I know you can but I can't help worrying about you." Tatsuki followed her friend to the kitchen and saw Orihime looking out of the window.

Overhead, thin clouds rolled over the sky like waves. Gently, lazily.

"Hmm… Today's a good day. Hey, Tatsuki-chan, let's go to the park! Oh, that'd be perfect. The bakery where I'll start as an assistant baker is just a few blocks away from the park. I'll show you how to get there."

Those same rolling clouds continued their lenient travel across the sky. Twenty-seven stories above Minato, Ichigo observed them, casting shadows over the buildings. They mingled with other clouds and together they rolled, light sifting and spilling through the white mist.

"What an unlucky girl," said a female voice.

Gritting his teeth in annoyance, Ichigo refused to turn and acknowledge the visitor. He had gotten good in ignoring her whenever she came around, which was often. At times, her presence was a welcome distraction. But his temper was volatile these days. It would be hard to ignore her provocation.

Kuchiki Rukia, a representative from Kuchiki clan, a business associate, smiled cheekily, ignoring Ichigo's foul temper.

"To marry you and spend a lifetime babysitting you, oh Kami bless her soul."

The ergonomic chair squeaked meekly when Ichigo finally turned to glare at Rukia. "Funny," he snarled, eyes narrowed.

Ignoring Ichigo, Rukia turned Sado. "Do you know the girl?"

Ichigo glanced at his friend from the corner of his eye. Sado nodded. The orange-haired man grunted and averted his gaze, turning his face away from his best friend's gaze.

"Really," said Rukia, looking thoughtful.

"She was a high school classmate." Perceptive as always, Sado noticed Ichigo tense. A muscle in his jaw jumped and his eyes had darkened.

"A former classmate," murmured Rukia, watching Ichigo. "Interesting."

"What are you here for?" Ichigo demanded between clenched teeth.

Rukia shrugged. "I'm curious about this completely unprecedented affair. I want to hear it directly from you if it's true."

She was three years older than him. Her posture was graceful, her features sharp and intelligent. She commanded respect, and even though her stature was small, Ichigo knew she was physically strong. Although, she wasn't a child of a Kuchiki, merely adopted through the marriage of her older sister Hisana to current head of the Kuchiki family Byakuya, Rukia had acclimatized the ways of a full-blooded Kuchiki.

Ichigo was not impressed. If anything, what she said furthered his annoyance. "I don't want to talk about it. Leave. I don't want a baboon barging in my office because of his animal senses."

Rukia lifted an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"He," he grumbled, "is part bloodhound and part baboon. I'm sure he can sense you and the last thing I want to see is—"

The door burst open and a tall man with shocking red hair appeared.

"Rukia!"

Ichigo groaned, hitting his forehead with his palm. "Damn it."

Rukia turned around. The tall newcomer grinned wolfishly.

"See? I told you! Now get out and you-" Ichigo glared at Renji. "Go back to work!"

Renji frowned. "What's the matter with ya? Oi, don't be like that! You'll scare off your pretty bride."

It was only ten in the morning and he was already having a massive headache. "God damn it. Just leave me alone!"

"Pretty bride?" inquired Rukia, curious, so very curious.

A grin split across Renji's face. "This guy's so damn lucky!"

Sado frowned, looking concerned. Ichigo scowled, already having an idea where the conversation was leading. "What the fuck. Don't tell me—"

Wearing a wide grin, Renji whipped out a newspaper. "Today's front page: Kurosaki Ichigo's bride!" He pointed to the photograph. "Wow, Ichigo, her brea— ow! Rukia!"

"Pervert." Rukia snatched the newspaper from Renji's hand after she'd slapped his arm, looked at the front page and turned to Ichigo with a smirk. "So you like big-breasted women?"

Ichigo growled, got up from his chair and stalked across the room to seize the paper from Rukia's grasp.

"Shut up and leave!"

"And she's a redhead! Wow, Ichigo, you like fiery women, don't you?" added Renji, grinning suggestively.

Ichigo's expression went blank before it darkened. "One more word and I'll fire you."

Renji snorted. "Geez. So grumpy."

Ichigo gritted his teeth. "I said one more word and—"

"I'm going, I'm going. Say, Rukia," Renji said, bending down a little to grin at the woman. "Do you wanna—"

"No flirting inside my office! Get the fuck out!"

Neither of the two subjects of his wrath cringed, used to Ichigo's temper. "Stop yelling. We can hear you just fine," chided Rukia. Ichigo ground his teeth, nose flaring. The pair soon left and Ichigo closed the door, still seething. Remembering the paper he'd grabbed from Rukia, he unfurled it. His countenance further darkened.

"Shit. Fucking tabloids!" he fumed. "How the hell did they even find out?" With heavy steps, Ichigo returned to his desk, tossing the paper on the desk carelessly, creating a loud slapping sound. He flopped down heavily and turned his chair so that he was facing away.

"What are you going to do?" asked Sado.

"What else?" Ichigo grumbled. He met his best friend's eye. "What do you think, Chad?"

The taller man shrugged. "Do what you think is right."

"Tch." Ichigo ran a hand over his thick hair. Few locks stood up, others fell over his eyes. "That's the problem. What I fucking want is _not _to get married. I offered her money—"

Ichigo faltered, cringing at the look Sado was giving him. "I was angry, okay? It just… happened," he muttered, scowling off to the side to avoid his best friend's gaze. Sado frowning disapprovingly was as rare as the blue moon, and as much as he hated to admit it, it bothered him that he resorted to such thing. And perhaps what annoyed him the most was the fact that he did it to _her_.

"But you already agreed, didn't you?"

Ichigo seemed to swell with anger. Sado reached for the paper. He read the headline then gazed at the stolen blurred picture of an auburn-haired woman.

"It's going to be difficult for her," Sado said. Though the picture was blurred, Orihime's hair color and physical attributes were distinguishable.

"What about me?" demanded Ichigo angrily, his amber eyes smoldering. "I _don't _want to marry her. But I _will_ because this fucking company belongs to my family— to my sisters!"

Sado returned the newspaper on the table, right in front of the seething CEO. Ichigo refused to look down at the paper, locking eyes with Sado who looked back serenely.

"And this is what my mother wants. I won't fail her."

Sado stood up slowly, his face neutral.

"You sound like you're trying to convince yourself, Ichigo."

:

"Ichigo, my boy! Have you missed daddy?"

Ichigo ground his teeth. "You have five fucking seconds to turn around and walk out of my office without injuries," he hissed between clenched teeth without looking up.

"Mou, so hostile!"

Ichigo stood up abruptly, his palms flat on the desk. "Three seconds."

"Ichigo."

The lack of cheeriness in his father's tone made Ichigo look up, the muscles in his lower mandible tightening.

Unflinching, Isshin met Ichigo's fiery eyes. "Your mother had her reasons."

He cringed inwardly.

It still hurt whenever she was mentioned. The pain wasn't as overcoming as before, when the wound was still fresh, deep and bleeding. But her memories both hurt and brought joy. Ichigo would always remember her with happiness for the fond memories, as well as with sadness for the goodness of those times that will never happen again.

Blowing out a curse, he turned to the windows behind him, a hand threading through his thick hair.

"Why did you let her do this to me? To us? How about Yuzu and Karin? What about their futures?" He turned around to face his father. "You could have stopped her! _You'_ve worked hard all your life for this company."

"You, too, Ichigo, have worked hard to continue my legacy. You've succeeded far more than I have imagined. And for that, I am proud of you."

Ichigo's eyes grew wide for a moment before he looked away to hide his surprise. His father was juvenile, interfering and downright annoying but his approval meant a lot to Ichigo.

"Why did you agree to this?" he asked, tone even, after he'd recovered from surprise. "Don't you think what Mom did is absurd and unfair?"

"Nope! Not at all!"

Ichigo looked at his father as though all he wanted to do was to put him through his window. "Fuck, I'm serious! It's my life and this company at stake here!"

"So am I," Isshin said, looking serene once again. "It's simple: I trust her. I trust her then, I still trust her now." Ichigo felt something twist inside his chest at his father's serious demeanor. He turned, facing away from his father, hiding his expression.

Because he was turned, Ichigo did not saw Isshin grin and leap forward, engulfing him in a bear hug. Ichigo sputtered, stumbling forward under the weight of his father. "Get off me!" he bellowed, grabbing the back of Isshin's shirt and throwing him off his back.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?"

Isshin landed on his feet, arms raised to his sides. "Oho! Perfect landing!" he boomed with a wink, flashing him a victory sign. Ichigo felt his eye twitch in annoyance; even though he was used to his father's crazy mood swings, the old man always managed to catch him off guard.

"She chose well, didn't she?"

Ichigo gave his father a flat stare, eyes narrowed. "Can it, old man."

Isshin ignored him and clasped his hands together, teary-eyed. "My beloved Masaki, you genius! Thank you kindly for choosing a lovely daughter-in-law! That charming face, all those glorious curves and sturdy child-bearing hips!" he babbled excitedly, waving his hands as though tracing invisible curvatures. He flashed him a thumbs up sign, winking.

"Perfect ten!"

The urge to throttle his father was overwhelming. "Get out."

Isshin waggled his eyebrows suggestively, making groping gestures in front of his chest. "You have to admit, those gazongas are-"

Neliel flinched in surprise when a shriek filled the air, and something flew out of Ichigo's office, hit the wall and crumpled on the floor.

"Kurosaki-san?" said Neliel, confused.

Still facedown on the floor, Isshin lifted a fist, his thumb sticking out. "A perfect roundhouse kick, my son! Daddy's so proud!"

Ichigo responded by slamming the door close with a force that shook the walls.

:

July 27th, they got married, ten days after Kurosaki Ichigo turned twenty four.

:

She's beautiful, Rukia thought. She never got a chance to meet her personally for Ichigo refused to tell her anything about this woman. Rukia had wisely stopped pestering him for information, noticing how volatile he was when asked about his fiancée. This only proved that the engagement was something he didn't want. Rukia knew Ichigo, knew him enough to say that he was not someone who could be forced to do something he didn't want.

Rukia returned her gaze on the woman. Who would not want to marry someone who looked like her?

In a white strapless bodice and flowing skirt, Inoue Orihime was radiant. Her auburn hair was curled in a chic updo with a lily poking out of it. She wore no accessories. She held a bouquet of long-stemmed sunflowers, tied together by a red ribbon. Rukia had heard from Sado that sunflowers were Ichigo's deceased mother's favorite flowers, and from Kurosaki Isshin that Inoue – now Kurosaki, of course – regularly left sunflowers at Kurosaki Masaki's grave.

Rukia's frown deepened. The only reason she could think of was that Ichigo did not love his fiancée. Ichigo was not shallow but he was not a romantic either. He was a sensitive guy but at the same time, realistic. He got involved with few women before but none of them was able to tolerate Ichigo's frowning visage and insensitivity when it came to romantic relationships.

Perhaps, Rukia thought, brow creasing, this is due to uncle's interference.

But for Ichigo to acquiesce so readily, in just ten days, was surprising. Ichigo's stubbornness was as legendary as his ferocious temper.

Few pews away from Rukia, Tatsuki watched as her best friend fidgeted and blushed profusely at the attention she was receiving. Though she was smiling, Tatsuki knew Orihime was anxious.

Yesterday, Orihime went back to Karakura to visit Masaki. Tatsuki had offered to come with her but Orihime had refused. Tatsuki relented and hoped that eventually, Orihime will realize that it was going to be a mistake. But she came back, saying, "A promise is a promise."

Tatsuki shifted her gaze to the front. Ichigo looked as though he were having severe stomachache. He didn't even bother to tame his wild hair.

She caught Sado's eye and gave him a small weary smile. Sado nodded and turned to Ichigo to pat his friend's shoulder. Tatsuki saw Ichigo tense. Stiffly, face unreadable, Ichigo turned to face his bride.

She swore the air between her friends become thick, electrified, and heavy with tension. Isshin laughed loudly and said something which made Orihime blush and Ichigo glare.

Tatsuki heard a sob and turned towards the sound. A muscle ticked in her temple.

"My precious Hime, of all the ogres I call men, why him?" the redheaded young woman behind her lamented. Teary eyes met Tatsuki's. They flashed with indignation. "And you! How dare you let my Hime marry that… _that_!"

"Shut up, Chizuru," said Tatsuki flatly and faced forward again.

:

"…_for me, Orihime-chan?"_

_That is the magic word. For me, for her, for Masaki-san._

_The girl nods determinedly. "I—"_

:

"I do."

:

"You may kiss the bride."

Ichigo looked like he was having a migraine. Orihime smiled weakly, red-faced.

Amongst the crowd, Tatsuki glared, an eye twitching. Keigo, who was next to her, nervously itched away from her after catching her murderous expression. Sado wore no expression. Ishida was frowning. Rukia and Renji looked curious. Isshin was smiling.

The small crowd, a very small crowd waited. The wedding was a highly private affair, with very few guests, handpicked by Isshin himself.

Ichigo clenched his jaw, his eyes heavy-lidded.

He grew up adoring his mother. She taught him many things and one of those was to respect women. He imagined her disappointed look and it wound him. Thus, despite his private sentiments about this marriage and the woman who was now his wife, his manners prevailed.

He stepped forward.

Orihime stiffened. Her eyes had become huge and she held her slim bouquet of sunflowers tightly. Ichigo ignored her apparent discomfort and bent down to kiss the corner of her lips. The touch lingered, and Orihime felt her cheeks flush, her heart trip. Warmth swelled inside her, spreading outward to her limbs.

Ichigo pulled back.

"I now pronounced you, man and wife."

Tatsuki smiled in return as Orihime beamed at her.

_Good luck, kiddo._

She flipped her phone open, took a picture, and saved it.

Kurosaki Orihime.

Hmm, Tatsuki thought. Nice. I like it.

* * *

**note**. WHOAAaaaa

G-guys you are all too kind and generous! Thank you, thank you so much! xx And oh i am very sorry for the delay. Stuff and things happened XD


	4. songbird

The building stood between an office tower and a row of a mixture of stores operated by elderly owners. As they entered, Orihime had become distracted by how high the ceiling was at the lobby that she didn't notice her husband had stopped and as a consequence, she ran into his back.

She gasped and tottered ungracefully. Had Ichigo not snatched her wrist to steady her, she would have fallen. Orihime started at the unexpected touch, her heart tripping. Her wrist was released, and she took a deep breath, gaze dropping.

"I-I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention."

"Obviously," Ichigo deadpanned. She turned red and opened her mouth to apologize again but Ichigo shook his head and gestured to her to continue walking.

In silence, they rode the elevator up to the penthouse. When the doors slid open, a bulky man was revealed waiting outside, wearing a suit and an earpiece. His square-shaped jaw and thick eyebrows gave him a stern expression, his dark hair cut short above his ears.

"Matsunaga." Ichigo nodded as he stepped out of the elevator, followed by Orihime.

"Sir."

"This is Orihime. She's my wife."

Orihime felt a twinge at the way he said 'wife'. It wasn't cold or angry. It sounded as though he were commenting about something insignificant but had to be mentioned. Matsunaga giving her a bow distracted her from the hurt, and she returned the gesture, mumbling "hello" shyly.

Ichigo turned and walked down the hallway, Orihime behind him, followed by Matsunaga. They paused in front of a pair of doors. Ichigo opened a door, revealing the amber-lit foyer. He moved aside to let her in first.

To Matsunaga, he said, "Contact Nel," and closed the door. He walked around Orihime, started towards a hall to the right and opened another door. Orihime followed but stayed in the entrance, unsure if she should enter.

Ichigo walked around the L-shaped cherry wood desk, pulling at his tie to loosen the noose. He unfastened the top button of his shirt, shrugged off his coat, and draped it over the backrest of the swivel chair. He frowned at his watch and pushed a button on his phone panel.

"Matsunaga."

"Line 4, sir."

He pressed another button. "Nel."

"Sir."

Ichigo straightened up and looked at Orihime, his eyes lidded, expression blank.

"Send someone to get to my wife's apartment. I want her possessions delivered here tomorrow at seven."

Orihime's eyes had become huge, her expression confused.

"Yes, sir."

He pressed another button, ending the conversation.

"Are you just going to hover there?"

Orihime reddened and tentatively stepped inside his large office. A blue songbird in the lion's den.

"You're staying here." Ichigo rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, exposing thick forearms. He glared at the packed bookshelves to his left, and then, looked at her. "At first I thought letting you stay wherever you want. But I don't want to give the press an advantage. Stay here and you'll be able to live at peace without worrying about being spied on."

She gave a small nod but said, "You don't have to get someone get my things. I'll get them myself tomorrow."

He shrugged, looking indifferent as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I've already arranged it."

"But-"

"Listen," he said abruptly, eyes narrowed. "I'm clear on what I feel about this marriage. I don't know what you did and said to my mother that made her do something absurd but whatever it is your planning, I suggest you abandon it now.

"To be frank, my lawyers can come up something that can invalidate the will my mother had written. But," he paused to take a deep breath, scowled and continued, "This is what she wanted. If she wanted to imprison us in this kind of marriage, then so be it. I've decided a long time ago that I won't get married unless it's something I truly want. But you two came up with this idea."

Orihime looked down, hands clasped in front of her. The silence felt charged, making her feel tenser than before.

"For how long are you going to play the devoted wife, Orihime?"

She started at the mention of her name. Suddenly her skin felt hot. Orihime hadn't expected him to say her name_. Orihime. _How odd. Her name sounded different. She replayed the moment in her mind, that one second: _Orihime._ And she felt something shift, her atoms rearranging.

She took a deep breath. She had thought there will be no tangible encounters between them that would require calling the other by their name.

The air felt thicker when Ichigo stepped around his desk and walked towards her. Her first instinct was to take a step back, but she was too flustered to move. Thankfully he stopped two arm's length away from her.

His scowl deepened.

Orihime flushed, recalling he had asked a question. "Sorry, I was just…" Her tongue darted out to wet her dry lips. She turned her pink face away, a lock of hair falling to drape over her chest.

Ichigo crossed his arms and stared down at her profile.

Orihime tucked her hair behind her ear, looked up and answered, "For as long as I am able."

He huffed, scowl deepening. "Until you're old and grey then?"

"Yes."

He studied her, revealing nothing in his eyes and gestures. He then shoved his hands inside his pockets and asked another question.

"What if I met someone and I want her to have my name, what would you do?"

She felt something twist inside her chest. It was something she had felt before but unable to name. It was raw, an almost-physical pang in her chest that she can feel it in her bones, in her ribs. Orihime pushed the feeling aside forcefully. But the feeling slowly and gently crept back into her system. It grew, blazing up and engulfing her.

Orihime fought against it but it was futile. It sent questions running through her mind. Can she handle seeing him pine for someone? Will she be able to endure the pain for years until she turned old and grey? Will she be strong enough to keep a blind eye to his affairs? She loved him but what will happen to that love once it was exposed to affairs?

She was suddenly afraid; afraid that with sadness, her love will transform into something ugly and bitter. That in time she will grow to hate him, and in hating him, she will hate herself. However, what frightened Orihime the most was the possibility of blaming Masaki for losing herself if her love turned into resentment. She didn't want that.

But they were married now and she was determined to fulfill her promise. She was a child then, naïve, only ten years old, when she made that promise. As she grew, she learned the reality and its consequences. She had felt crushed under the weight of the promise. There were times she had considered backing out. But a part of her had protested so strongly that the thought of breaking her promise made her physically ill. It wounded her so, imagining Masaki's disappointed face.

She cast him a quick glance underneath her heavy lashes. They both loved Masaki and neither wanted to disappoint her. She was not the only distressed participant here.

Loyalty was one of Ichigo's strongest traits. He seemed like a hard man to charm but he would meet someone utterly lovely, fall in love, and he would want to express those feelings.

Orihime looked up to him and swallowed, crushed by the intensity with which he stared at her. The dull ache did not diminish. It fluttered inside her chest, like a bird hovering in midair, unable to decide, left or right, stay or leave.

She smiled despite it.

"I-I understand what you're trying to say. I won't mind if you…" She was unable to say it now, unlike before. It unnerved her somewhat.

"But you're not going to relinquish your title and privileges as my wife, eh, _Kurosaki-san_?"

She flushed but did not break eye contact with him. Something flickered in his eyes – a look, brief, faltering, almost-there, but not really. When she blinked, it was gone and Orihime decided then it was imagined.

Ichigo walked past her.

"I'll show you around."

:

They walked through a hall, passed an open library, and emerged in a spacious high-ceiling living room. Orihime eyed the oversize windows with awe; she loved high places, they made her feel closer to the sky.

The decorations and furniture were meager but tasteful. The cleanliness and careful arrangement of furniture were slightly unsettling. Nothing seemed to indicate that someone was living here.

He showed her the open plan kitchen and dining room. Like in the living room, everything was in order and seemed new or unused.

Orihime followed Ichigo down a hall and up a staircase leading to the mezzanine level.

Ichigo opened a door and stepped in. The room was smaller than his office but it still felt huge for Orihime. It was decorated in cream, soft browns and pale red. It was spacious, with large, sweeping windows. Orihime walked to the windows, looked out, saw the skyline, the lights, the slant of moonlight through the clouds.

"Make a list of things you need to be comfortable here. Matsunaga will get them for you."

Ichigo walked to the door and was about to leave when Orihime spun around. Ichigo paused, looking up to meet her eyes.

"Thank you," said Orihime with a bow.

Ichigo said nothing and closed the door.

Finally alone, she sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, feeling drained. The changes were overwhelming. She had thought before they'll live under the same roof but not immediately after the wedding.

With a sigh, she unbuckled her sandals and placed her feet on the carpeted floor. Before she left with Ichigo, she had changed from her wedding dress to a blue dress. They had left the reception early; she bid her friends and Ichigo's sisters a quick good bye and thanked them.

After pulling on the drapes over the windows and turning off the lights, she slipped under the thick covers, still wearing her blue dress. The bed was hard, probably from being unused. She was exhausted; mentally, physically and emotionally. She closed her eyes with a sigh, but her thoughts circled around each other, making her feel more tired but awake. Remembering Ichigo's questions, she felt her chest tighten.

Opening her eyes, Orihime rolled to her back, her long hair tangled underneath her, curling around her shoulders and torso.

She did say she would not mind him having affairs but she knew it will still hurt. Immensely. She will feel betrayed, unworthy of love. At those thoughts, she felt her eyes sting. She closed her eyes tightly to force the tears back.

_No. _

_Kurosaki-kun's not cruel. _

He would not be utterly spiteful by flaunting his affairs. He would be discreet, partly to protect his reputation and to avoid questions from his family and friends.

Relieved that her eyes remained dry, she took deep breaths and turned to her side, tucking her hands under her cheek. Through the gap between the curtains, she saw the stars, twinkling playfully, as thought they were smiling.

_Tomorrow. _

_Will it be better?_

She will make it.

:

When Ichigo turned up at the bar in a hotel seven buildings away from where he left his wife, his friends, sitting around a table by the window, were surprised.

"Whatcha doing here?" asked Renji. Ichigo ignored him. Undeterred, a grin lifted the corners of Renji's mouth. "Honeymoon's already over? Can't get it u-"

Ichigo smacked the back of Renji's head.

"Hey! You-"

"Can it," Ichigo deadpanned, his eyes holding a spark of annoyance in them. He slid next to Sado and raised a hand. A waiter immediately came over. He surprised his friends by ordering a bottle of brandy.

"Oi. This is singles' night out. No married boys allowed," Renji drawled as soon as the server left. Ichigo grunted and ran a hand through his hair. The server returned with his order. Three pairs of eyes watched in bewilderment as Ichigo emptied his first glass and poured another glassful.

"Whoa, man, whoa." Renji made a face. "Slow down."

"Shut up. I need to get drunk," snapped Ichigo and glowered at his glass sulkily. Renji traded confused looks with Sado. The other man shrugged.

"What's the matter with you? You look as if you got a death sentence or something," Renji muttered.

A cold smirk kicked up the corner of Ichigo's mouth, looking both amused and predatory.

Renji blinked at his friend's expression, mouth slack, looking as though someone had asked him a complicated math question.

Ishida adjusted his glasses and crossed his arms. "What are you really doing here?" Ichigo did not reply, his gaze stubbornly staying on his glass. "What kind of husband are you, leaving Inoue-san on the first night of your marriage?"

Ichigo scowled. "It's Kurosaki."

Ishida arched an eyebrow. "My mistake. It's Kurosaki-san now, isn't it?"

The muscles in Ichigo's jaw tightened. "Like you fucking forgot!" he retorted with a sneer.

"What are you doing here, Ichigo?" interrupted Sado, effectively distracting Ichigo from starting a verbal fight with Ishida. "You never liked drinking."

Ichigo ran a hand over his face. "I brought her to my penthouse."

"Huh? What penthouse?" asked Renji at the same time Ishida said, "You don't live in your penthouse. Are you two going to live separately?"

Ichigo thought he had this whole arrangement figured out, but he still felt lost. Letting her stay wherever she wanted was the plan while he carried on with his routine. He refused to let the change in his marital status affect his life.

But the last thing he needed was a fucking newspaper article on his marriage every damn morning. Tabloids were known for their mercilessness and dogged persistence. He had never paid attention to malicious write-ups that cropped up and _will_ crop up every now and then. But this was different. His mother was involved. He'd be damned if he allowed his mother's name be drug into this mess.

"No," Ichigo finally answered.

Renji blinked, looking thoroughly confused but did not say anything. Ichigo grunted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Kurosaki."

"What," Ichigo scoffed, irritated.

"I know you and Ino-" Ichigo shot him a murderous glare. "_Your _wife," Ishida corrected, "have serious issues. But try not to be a complete unfeeling brute. If you can't refrain yourself from making hurtful comments, then make your encounters scarce."

Ichigo cast a cold look in Ishida's direction, eyes narrowed. "You sound very concerned."

Ishida stared back just as icily. "I am _very _concerned. Inoue-san is important to me."

Renji fidgeted, watching the staring contest between two friends with growing anxiety. _It's Kurosaki-san, Ishida._ He thought correcting Uryuu but decided it was unwise to butt in. The glint in Ichigo's eyes had grown more menacing. He looked as if he were pondering what to break first: Ishida's eyeglasses or his nose.

Ichigo huffed and emptied his glass. "Be concerned as much as you want. I don't give a shit."

Sado put a calming hand on Ishida's shoulder and shook his head. Ishida wisely acquiesced, still looking irritated. Looking uninterested, Ichigo flagged another server, ordering another bottle.

Renji grinned. "So how was the honeymo-"

"Drop it, Renji," growled Ichigo, voice heavy with irritation.

"You didn't get some, did you?"

Before Ichigo could reply or sock Renji's face, the server arrived with his order.

Grinning broadly, Renji raised his glass. "Let's have a toast! To Ichigo. May he and his pretty bride-" Ichigo clenched his teeth. "—live happily, with lots of se-"

Ichigo reached out a hand, grabbed Renji's loose tie, and pulled. Renji let out a pained cry as his chin collided with the table.

"Ow! You bastard!"

:

Outside, with the gentleness of a blooming flower, the sky turned pink from black. Early sunlight spilled and sifted through the clouds. They went through the windows, casting diamond patterns on the floor.

Orihime watched them from the plush red couch, knees drawn up to her chest, her chin resting on top of them.

She didn't sleep much; she figured it was because of the unfamiliarity of her new home. Thoughts and worries kept her awake, too.

She looked up to the wall clock. It was still early, only five minutes before six. Slowly, she unfolded her legs, bare feet touching the floor. She rose and paced to the windows, opening the drapes fully. Sunlight flooded in, bathing the whole room in natural light.

At six, she went to the kitchen. The fridge was empty except for ice cubes and bottled water. She opened the cupboards and found them empty. Feeling thirsty, she took the bottled water from the refrigerator and transferred the contents in a glass. Then she sat at one of the barstools at the breakfast counter and looked out of the window to gaze at the brightening sky. Like in the living area, the windows here were oversize.

There was a buzz, causing Orihime to jump. She hopped off the stool and went to answer the front door. As she passed the living area, she saw huge drapes covering the floor to ceiling windows. Muted sunlight streamed through them, bathing the room in soft gold light.

Standing outside was the man called Matsunaga.

"Good morning, miss."

"Good morning," she said with a smile. She opened the door wider. "I'll go and get Kuro- I-Ichigo-kun," she hastily corrected herself, blushing.

"He's not here."

She turned slowly back to Matsunaga. "Eh?"

"Kurosaki-shachou doesn't live here."

Orihime stiffened as her chest tightened. "Oh." She flushed in embarrassment and forced herself to smile at Matsunaga.

"The movers are here with your belongings. As per Kurosaki-shachou's orders, I brought supplies."

"I… All right." She watched Matsunaga speak to his lapel before she turned, leaving the door opened.

A group of men soon came up, bearing sealed boxes. She led them to the hallway where her bedroom was. She then helped Matsunaga sort and put away the supplies.

"Miss, is there a problem?"

Orihime started and looked up.

Matsunaga continued, "Do you prefer another brand?" He pointed to the box of cheese in her hand. "We can get you whatever brand you fancy."

"Oh, no. This is fine! It's just- I have never seen this brand before."

"I hope we got everything you need," Matsunaga said after they tidied up.

Orihime beamed. "You purchased so many foods that the cupboards are overflowing! You even brought me a couple of baking materials. Thank you for that!"

"It was Kurosaki-shachou's orders to get you those equipments, miss."

Orihime stared at him, bewildered.

"Kurosaki-shachou also informed me about a list."

Orihime shook her head to clear her thoughts and said, "But you already got me everything, Matsunaga-san." Matsunaga nodded slowly. He bowed and left. It was Orihime and the humming of the refrigerator.

She had never minded silences; she had spent years in solitude. This silence however was different from what she was accustomed to. No purring of cats, no chattering of children walking home from school, no distant roar of passing trains.

Orihime looked out the window, the sky a gentle blue. Watching the lone wispy cloud floating nearby, she now understood the unnatural cleanliness and emptiness of her new home: _"Kurosaki-shachou doesn't live here."_

She thought: alone.

Always alone.

One, two, three, she counted as she breathed. Then she trudged up the stairs and sorted her things. She found Sora and Masaki's photographs.

She placed them on the low table next to her bed.

Orihime smiled.

_There._

Not so alone anymore.

:

* * *

**note. **I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for the atrocious delay! the past two months were dreadful! but things are starting to calm down, so I have a bit of free time to finish and proofread this! I'm not an expert though, so please if you spot a mistake, tell me! :D

thank you so much for your patience, reviews, support, kindness and generosity! xx

p.s. I saw some reviewers making guesses heh heh I won't tell if your guesses were right! :P


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